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<TITLE>The Second Coming</TITLE>
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<FONT SIZE="+2" COLOR="#00AEFF"><STRONG><EM>The Second Coming</EM></STRONG></FONT><BR>
<FONT SIZE="+1"><STRONG>William Butler Yeats</STRONG></FONT>
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TURNING and turning in the widening gyre<BR>
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;<BR>
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;<BR>
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,<BR>
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere<BR>
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;<BR>
The best lack all conviction, while the worst<BR>
Are full of passionate intensity. 
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Surely some revelation is at hand;<BR>
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.<BR>
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out<BR>
When a vast image out of i{Spiritus Mundi}<BR>
Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert<BR>
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,<BR>
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,<BR>
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it<BR>
Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.<BR>
The darkness drops again; but now I know<BR>
That twenty centuries of stony sleep<BR>
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,<BR>
And what rough beast, its hour come round at laSt,<BR>
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
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